


Of Oathbreakers & Oathkeepers

by rarabro



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-14 05:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13001154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarabro/pseuds/rarabro
Summary: A non-chronological collection of drabbles/snippets exploring the relationship of Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth.





	1. tenderness

**Author's Note:**

> I'm inconsistent as fuck. I've been binge reading fics since the end of August and now I need an outlet to put this stuff. This is all going to be about soft affections and fluff. Jaime Lannister is a bottom. Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

In the morning haze, she awoke to the tickle of a wet kiss placed above her breast. She felt his smile melt into her skin as he rested his chin against the center of her chest. With the weight of sleep still hanging on her, Brienne's blue eyes focused on his emerald pair.

  
"You look pleased this morning."

  
Astonishingly, his eyes lightened even more. "I'm always pleased by you."

  
Tenderly, delicately, he treaded his lips down the form of her muscular belly, his beard caressing the softness of her skin. A warm sigh passed her lips as he reached her navel. With the finesse that only a lover could carry, he placed a kiss below her button.

  
Tender rivalry pulled Brienne's hand from its stupor and she placed her fingertips at his forearm, trailing to grasp at his stump. A tender rivalry and a tender embrace, her hand held him.

  
Jaime's eyes hazed at the contact, and for a moment Brienne was only able to focus on the fixed dilation of his pupils. There was an unbendable softness to his acts as a lover that left her breathless, even without his sexual touch. The greatest act Jaime could ever perform in the world was to love as passionately as he fought. While he invested into his love with every iota of himself that he could, Brienne knew he needed more than just an outlet. He yearned for reciprocation.

  
Mirroring his devotion, her right hand grasped his tousled hair. "When did a lion become so tame?" she wondered aloud.

  
His head curved down once more, the hint of a smile crinkling his eyes, and he put his attention back to her stomach. One, two, a splatter of kisses fell from his lips, and Brienne relaxed into his touch. Her eyes closed as he reached her hip bone and her abdomen tightened at the anticipation that would quickly follow. 


	2. in darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let Jaime be held, damnit.

Brienne sat mere inches from Jaime's head, his form curled into itself, imitating sleep. She knew better than to assume him at peace.

Through their frequented time spent together, it seemed as though each were on the verge of some unspoken confession. She felt the tension grasp at them and stalk them, never trailing back enough to give them reprieve, yet ghosting enough to let them believe they were the best each other had. At night it seemed to manifest by their bedside, yet neither could acknowledge it, could welcome it. Perhaps it frightened Jaime more than her.

Finally, she spoke into the darkness: "I only ever held Renly as he died."

The words fell harder than expected, and all Brienne could hear was Jaime's gentle breath. Abruptly, he began to shift in the creaking bed, and his head made contact with her thigh, facing her knees.

"Hold me, Brienne."

Her heart squeezed, and tenderly she found a hand grazing his temple, her other caressing his frame. Her hand skimmed his biceps, the muscle feeling like a broad mountain against her fingers, her fingertips skirting against his soft stretch of arm hair. Half a God, she thought.

Jaime sighed and leaned into her touch, his mouth pressing into her. Maybe this once would be enough.


	3. hands of gold (side a)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows show canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side B will be up when I get my shit together. 
> 
> Thanks for the praise, it's been keeping me going, folks.

The snow crunched under Jaime's feet as he walked the confines of Winterfell's walls. Looming and suffocating, the walls stood as the barrier between them and the rest of the world. The notion transfixed him; the reality that Westeros would soon turn into an icy wasteland of undead and frozen souls. He bundled further into his lion furs, attempting to find any amount of warmth.

  
He kept his eyes forward as he treaded the yard, absently examining the solid structure. Jaime found his own solace from the partial isolation of Northmen. His arrival was as unwelcome as expected, yet he took keen note at the disinterest to which Brienne of Tarth pointedly held him.

  
At his arrival, Brienne had stepped forward to vouch for his being, his honor, and no sooner that his presence became accepted without bloodshed, she turned and fled. No chance to give a gracious thanks, no opportunity to be pierced by the sapphires of her eyes, he was left to trail alone, befuddled by her disappearance. He missed the fiery consumption of her gaze.

  
Absently, he reached out his gold hand to skim the surface of the wall. The texture sent a soft vibration up his arm, soothing him. Finally, he stood still.

  
With vines interwoven through out the bricks, a sudden trickle of blossoming blue caught his eye. He stooped, only a foot, and bent to poke the tender buds. A single flower was in full blossom against their brothers, and Jaime was momentarily left breathless at its singular and peculiar beauty. A yellow flush lined the center and a fading white ocean of blue coated it outwards. Jaime's knowledge of northern flowers was minimal, but he was still surprised that such an allure could be found in the wasteland of snow. It seemed to radiate like a bloom of hope.

  
He was fond of this one, he knew. With the tenderness of a lover, he plucked it. He cradled the flower in his golden palm, admiring its elegance. There was almost a cruel selfishness in plucking it. Perhaps it deserved to grow against these walls and remain untarnished, giving its own life to the perimeter of death around them. Yet, reasonably, who was to say if another would have come and plucked this flower; would they not see the beauty in this sunlight? Would one have compared the flower to the blossoming others and have tossed it aside in naivety?

  
His golden hand reflected a warm radiance. Delicately, he held the flower to him, almost afraid it would take the opportunity to melt if he looked away.

  
As he marched back towards the grounds, he only thought of one person worthy enough for such a flower.


	4. hands of gold (side b)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Side A. Follows show canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a soft heart.

Tenderly, sweetly, his gold hand cupped Brienne's and he delicately placed the blue flower within her large palms. Her hands were already raw from the frozen winter, and his golden hand that held her in place seemed to scorch her; as the blue flower pressed into her palm she thought her hands alone would turn it to ice.

  
Jaime had managed to coax her into a walk along the walls of Winterfell - something she begrudgingly agreed to. He had seen her before she saw him, and it was as she was instructing Podrick on his training, he had managed to slyly grab her attention by bluntly commenting on her absence. Ashamed, she denied such claims and sent Pod away to avoid any further embarrassment between the trio, and in an act of stubbornness, trailed beside Jaime along the walls. As much as she felt the invisible tug to be beside him, she knew their duties were to be in place for the upcoming war, and any emotional intimacy would be a fault to whatever lay ahead.

  
Jaime's hand curved above hers as she stared at the flower in partial shock. Her sapphire eyes finally met his green, and she saw the warm hope of spring brimming them.

  
"I thought it appropriate to give my lady a token of appreciation for defending me upon my arrival."

  
Brienne felt more dumbstruck at this vocalization, and felt a flush kiss her cheeks. "Ser Jaime, I'm grateful for the sentiment, but you have given me more than enough reason to defend your honor." She felt the weight of Oathkeeper at her side, lion pommel and all.

  
His eyes crinkled at the reference, and his thumb stroked against a soft petal in her hand. They stared at the melting yellow that the blue of the flower engulfed, and Brienne felt numb by its beauty. This flower deserves more than her hands; it deserves to be romanticized in some knightly fairytale, a champion offering favor to a lady love - not the tarnish of her large and ugly hands by a man made of gold.

  
"It reminds me of you," he spoke softly. "It goes well with your eyes." And with that, he pulled away from her and continued his march along the walls.

  
Brienne stood, a magnificent ray of warmth encasing her. The flower lay cushioned in her palm, and momentarily she wondered if the heat of her hand would be able to deteriorate it. Perhaps words could be as sweet as songs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support. If any of you want to keep up with me/talk to me, go ahead and hit me up on my tumblr: rarabro


End file.
